lyciaho

[lyciaho]

my heart is so prone to wander.

[lyciaho]

i want to address these wounds, to give myself what i need, because this suffering is unnecessary. i hate the fact that i am constantly self-referential, self-absorbed; not out of ego, but more like a child crying out for help because something deep inside feels broken.

[lyciaho]

His love is relentless. it disarms me. there is nothing i can do but give in. i am so convinced of His goodness; i can laugh without fear of the future. there is nothing that is too difficult for Him, nothing that is out of reach for His arms. He cannot give more, and i must not give less.

[lyciaho]

isn't it baffling, the self-destructive behaviour people turn to in order to self-soothe? every behaviour serves a function, but we act out in ways that do not serve us at all. safe to say the flesh does not know any better than to drink from a poisoned well. that is all it knows, until the soul encounters a spring of living water that promises something far better, the real quenching of a real thirst. it realises, finally, that it has been settling for something far beneath what it was made for. at the sound of the Father's voice, the soul knows its worth. i think they call this reparenting. as it turns out, Love is the most grounding force of all.

[lyciaho]

leaning in

thinking a lot about the 2-day coaching workshop we attended at work. it was so insightful. the frameworks we were given helped to give shape to what i have experienced as a coach. and i feel like the moment you can name something is the moment you have clarity. though the word 'coach' is in my job title, i have never thought of coaching so conceptually before. the past 2 days were exhausting; i feel like there's just so much to digest and reflect on, so that all that i've learnt can actually make a difference in the work that i do.

what we think of as 'professional' work is actually deeply personal. the entities and organisations we work with are made of people, who come with varied perspectives, identities, experiences and stories. therefore, diversity is an important resource to embrace. the idea sounds simple, but actually, its very profound. to embrace diversity is to recognise our differences as complementary, rather than divisive. in any form of partnership, it is crucial to leverage on our differences. as much as we need to acknowledge each other's strengths, knowing our limitations is equally valuable. you bring to the table what i don't. it is important to acknowledge, in vulnerability, what you do not have, not just to set the parameters of the discussion, but also so that the other party is aware that that is something they might be able to contribute. in other words, admitting our limitations can be empowering. i'm not being very coherent about this. maybe i'll revisit this thought another day.

oftentimes we see human dynamics and relationships as a stumbling block to achieving a particular outcome. for example, we may think that person A's resistance to a particular decision is hindering us from making any sort of progress. i felt challenged to think about personnel as not simply a means to an end, but navigating my relationship with them is precisely the work. what if i spent my energy thinking about the reasons behind person A's resistance, and trying to work with them as an individual, instead of thinking about how i can convince them to make a decision? i suppose the best coaches are not simply achievers of a particular outcome, but champions of people. at the heart of our work, after all, is service and an other-orientation. the success of our work, therefore, should not be measured by the attainment of particular outcomes, but perhaps, the growth and wellbeing of our people.

i can't help but think also that it is so important to be self-aware, and to have a somewhat healthy sense of self, in order to be an effective coach. to be fully other-oriented requires me to forget about myself in a sense, because if something in me is triggered, my attention is given to managing my self and my emotions, rather than the issue at hand. i am only an instrument, and i don't have to take myself too seriously.

something else that was spoken about was the importance of noticing the power (im)balance (real or perceived) in any meeting. power can derail equal partnership. if i notice that power is leaning towards my direction, i need to think about empowering the other. on the other hand, if i feel like the smaller being, then i need to remember what i bring to the table! and power comes from different sources: experience, knowledge, influence... i think a deep sense of personal conviction, if apparent in the work we do and the way we come across, is also a form of power.

other observations, which i will list instead of expounding on, because it's been such a long day:

it is important to hold space for discomfort, and ambiguity (very difficult for me, because i like control, but your personality does not mean your capability, so i will have to try).

safety is experienced, not declared (hence my discomfort at the trite statement which somehow finds its way into most meetings: 'this is a safe space' - what does that even mean?).

more so than a 'safe space', it is a 'brave space' we need to create as coaches - think about the conditions in which courage can emerge. there should be no such thing as taboo.

not all conflict is bad; conflict can be generative and creative.

there is a shadow side to every strength.

knowing ourselves is a lifelong work.

[lyciaho]

it is Love that washes everything anew.

[lyciaho]

“Therefore I am now going to allure her; I will lead her into the wilderness and speak tenderly to her. There I will give her back her vineyards, and will make the Valley of Achor a door of hope." - Hosea 2:14-15

i remember feeling frantic right before my flight to delhi; i think it was the sleeplessness that caused the anxiety. everything was dripping with emotion. suffice to say i was a mess. i can't remember what i was reading when i came across this passage in Hosea. i read it -- or it read me -- and immediately i felt the embrace of the Lover of my soul. trips to india are always special to me, but this one felt sacred. it felt like a perfectly-timed gift, an invitation, an extended hand that was leading me into the wilderness, stripping me of the familiar, and allowing me to discover again what and Who has always been enough. in delhi i was open to connection anywhere i could find it, and boy did i find connection in almost anyone i met. whether it was the afghan students in the academy, people in church, strangers on the plane or in a cafe, i was so captivated by the story that He is writing in each and every life. i wanted to encounter each person deeply. isn't it such a miracle, that two lives would intersect at all? i don't ever want to take for granted the people who are willing to let their lives intertwine with mine, however briefly. it was a short 4 days, but His word held true: i stood, by the trip's end, at the door of hope. everything was brimming with possibility. i knew then that the world was waiting to open itself up to me again; all i had to do was knock.

[lyciaho]

august was such a beautiful month, and all good gifts must be returned to their Giver, lest they become devoted things. i am on my way to believing that He gives back with His right hand what He has taken away with His left; that what we offer to Him, however reluctantly, will always return to us as yet another gift, in whatever form He decides; that the moment of surrender is always the moment we free our hands to receive again. fundamentally, God is a Giver. He is that good.

it was once said to me that we are children of hope; we can't help it. it is an identity bestowed on us without our asking. i won't find it in myself to believe that whatever has passed is only a shadow of the good that is to come; my hope is anchored in Him. it is His promise that hope always, always resides in the future.

it is true too that He calls us to live above the plane of our emotions. faith is not some airy-fairy emotion you conjure; it is in fact a matter of will. grieve if you must, but don’t stay there. God makes streams in the wasteland and rivers in the desert; He asks that we perceive it, to summon hope when the eyes can’t see, to believe again that there is so much more of His goodness that is on its way.

the Lord gives and the Lord has taken away. blessed be the name of the Lord.

[lyciaho]

Days at TAVA have been weighing on me more than I thought they would. Some things lately: helped Kelvin with his 听写, for which he had to learn phrases such as 乌云密布. He memorises them pictorially, because he has no other handles to learn the language systematically. Neither do I, really. Does anyone? I tell him that the words sometimes look like the things themselves—乌 for example resembles a bird. By the end of it he gets all the strokes right, but has no idea what any of this means. It’s a difficult language, Mandarin. Made even more difficult with the lack of alphabets. Language. Strange word isn’t it? You lol your tongue back and then voice a plosive, the word forcing itself out of you. What language does he think in, I wonder? English, obviously, but perhaps not that obvious for someone so adaptable with sign language. He tells me that he had to learn it because his parents suddenly turned deaf and mute, but I have no idea if this is true. I don’t know how much of his narratives to trust. Strangely enough, he trusts mine. Well, maybe not all that strange. And maybe not all that mine. We read stories from the Bible at the end of each session, something he holds me to. I heard his voice even before I knew what he looked like—B called him to confirm his attendance and he said Yes, but you’ll read me Bible story later right? I find myself gripping at each precious moment I spend with him, but there is one moment which grips me: we were talking about prayer, and he said to me, my only wish is for my parents to talk again. I didn’t know what to say so we sat in silence for a while. Afterall, a prayer needs no language.

[lyciaho]

When we moved last May I packed my things in boxes, some of which I unpacked only today. I read my old journals (cringe), re-opened letters from my first penpal in 2010, looked at polaroids from younger (and fitter lol) days, re-discovered a box of postcards I’d collected since I was 14, when I had never stepped foot on a plane, when the internet was my only means of travel. It’s strange to think about the people whose paths have intertwined with mine, briefly but indelibly- who are they now?

A strange thing happens when we sieve through the past... I can’t bear to throw them away, we say, afraid to forfeit something that already belongs in the past, in case it has some unforeseeable use in the future. It seems we like holding onto things that serve no other function in the present but nostalgia.

Keep it, we say, telling ourselves we can throw these things away another time. Some things bear unspeakable shame and grief, like a journal from years ago. Others bear pride, like an old poem from primary school or well-composed photos from a nameless film roll. For now, just for now, like the many times you’ve gone through these things before, you shall hold on to them, the things that serve you better than the slippery grip of your own memory, things that remind you that past versions of yourself exist, that life was never as sweet and as bitter as it is now. It is so fascinating to understand how one’s self came to be—an understanding that wouldn’t be complete if you didn’t hold onto these things that hold onto you.

[lyciaho]

i’m aware of my position here. i am a foreigner, from a first world country, coming to a third world country to stay and soon, go. i’m obviously not fully aware of the extent of poverty here — i’ve pretended, so many times, not to notice the child beggars who approach me on the roads, toting their silent babies, pleading for money for their next meal. i never give money, because that comes with its own set of problems. and so i look away. when i say, i love India, what do i mean? do i love the land? its people? can i say i love something i don’t fully understand? i’m always cautious about romanticising the country, because reality isn’t rosy. i’m cautious even about using its language. i know a few words and phrases, can construct a sentence in stilted Hindi, but when i speak it, i’m aware of my butchering it, aware of my own accent being plastered over a foreign tongue. sometimes i’m so certain i’m getting the words right, it’s just that the sounds i am making are wrong, unintelligible to its rightful speakers. i’ve been exposed to some terrible experiences here, heard of some terrible things, will always be in an ongoing battle with autowallas over a cheaper fare. i will always be an outsider here; physically i look different. i speak different. yet i am also familiar with the beauty of this country... its mountains and rivers and culture and people. i love its rapid-fire language, its grey roads and bright saris. too much has happened to me here; it has been the harbour of all my transitions. would i feel different about it if i were living here—if I had to embrace all of it, instead of enjoying it in slivers and knowing i could leave anytime? i’m not sure. i’m aware that when i say i love India, i am in a way idealising the country, being romantic. this country is massive, an entire subcontinent. it is terrifyingly ugly in some aspects and yet so unspeakably beautiful in others. its ways are diverse—in so many diverse ways. it’s hard to make a blanket statement that would apply to all of India, all the time. you can’t say anything about this land that will hold absolutely true for all of it, all the time—so can i really say, yes, i love the country?

[lyciaho]

i was holding up half a yellow sun to my face while sitting on a train the other day. a boy and his mother walked in. they sat down. the mother wore a look of annoyance, and refused to look at her son. he kept tugging at her sleeve, waiting for her response. she pulled her arm away from him. as if begging for forgiveness, he continued pulling at her sleeve. annoyed, she got up and moved to the next cabin. he followed, with an urgency to his tiny steps. fear of abandonment? repentance in the name of love? sometimes they are the same thing. they sat down again, her face still a scowl. not once did he stop holding on to her elbow, as if that was the only part of her that remained accessible to him, and not once did she look at him. he rubbed his eyes behind his glasses, as if about to cry. i don’t know why that made me feel sad. then i stood up because it was my stop, and left the train.

[lyciaho]

i can’t explain how turbulent it has been within. this new season of my life has brought me through mountains high and valleys low, so much so that i sometimes wonder if i’m going crazy. it doesn’t help that my immune system is pretty shit. lately it’s been a struggle getting out of bed, not because i dread the days but because i frequently wonder if i have it within me to get through each one and do what i need to do well. so i hold on tightly to God’s promises of peace, joy, a sound mind, for God did not give us a spirit of fear. He never asked that i be perfect, or good even. He never promised that i could do it on my own. but God. these two words change everything. with Him all things are possible. why do i worry if 1) what He says must come to pass and 2) He had my good in mind when He wrote the days of my life? only with that does everything else fade, as He and only He stands in clear view. and has He not been faithful in sending me small graces that carry me through each day? He is the only real peace. everything else is a chasing after the wind

[lyciaho]

not that our puny human minds can ever understand it, but i often wonder what it’s like for God to see creation from above. to see past, present and future aligned, all at once; every life an irreplaceable thread meticulously woven in His tapestry, every broken person a redemption story, a masterpiece. i’m now convinced that there’s no such thing as coincidence, for not even a sparrow falls to the ground without Him noticing. sometimes it takes years to even realise what He did in a particular moment, how each thread is so inextricably connected. it must be that He planted these moments in time, and is waiting ever so patiently, graciously, for us to meet Him there.

there is a question i keep hearing whenever i find myself kneeling at life’s many crossroads. 

“do you trust Me?” 

it is a question that silences my fears.

and i think about all Your promises... the good that is to come... the good that i do not feel worthy or capable of yet. the good that i can’t even dream of. the good that is going to transform me, whether i know or like it. the good that has been written in the book of my days, even before i was conceived. the good that is surely on its way. the good that requires neither my permission nor my effort. i hope in the things i cannot yet see. and i trust in the Writer of all my days, that He has seen my life from beginning to end and is pleased. He who has revealed plot twists at all the right moments. He who takes all of me into consideration when He pens my life’s story: the smallest quirks and the icky bits that no one else sees, much less understands. my passions, short-lived or long-standing. You know them all, and more. i see it now because i see You; nothing i have that is of worth has come from my own doing. 

[lyciaho]

when will i be able to say, there is nothing on earth i desire except You? it was the closing of another chapter, another self. as swiftly as it arrived, it left, as the months always do. but before it did, August said to me: you don’t know how much there is to go, but you don’t need to. you just need to keep walking. you don’t know the good that is in store for you. only with that did August breathe its last breath, turning the sky into a pool, depths and depths that held up to me a mirror of its fading light.

[lyciaho]

well now that i have re-watched seasons 4-6 of parks and rec (best seasons of the series imho) several times, i figured writing would be a better way to spend my time than anticipating nick offerman’s perfectly delivered punch lines

i have spent the past week or so at home because there is literally a hole in my leg from my abscess debridement surgery last thursday. it hurts to walk, and i can’t really straighten my left leg without feeling like there’s a bullet lodged in my wound.

   anyway i spent a good portion of tonight reading my journals — pages that were filled from as long a time ago as nepal, 2014. strangely i don’t miss the person i used to be any more. there was once a time when i thought i would always look back at my unidays with intense nostalgia and longing, but i am surprisingly happy with where i am at the moment. thriving, even. in my journals it seems like i was so damned sure that i wouldn’t be happy in this phase of life, and boy was i wrong. i really had no idea back then how good life could be now.

i think this is why india is such a special place to me; the subcontinent has always been a harbour of my transitions. the first time i visited india i was fresh out of uni, waiting to begin a new phase of life. the second time i went, i turned 23. i was also awaiting big news for my next phase of life. the third time i visited i had just finished practicum. and the fourth time i visited, i was waiting to begin my new career. each time i returned feeling refreshed, encouraged by the promise that the good is always on its way. it is always on its way, no matter how blind you are to it.

      a part of me will always miss India, but perhaps it is no coincidence that my job right now allows me many Junes and Decembers to go and visit. so whenever i miss these faces, i find the patience to wait.

yes, india has truly given me so much. all my bad/careless life decisions have been redeemed by the people i've met, and of course by God who time and time again saves me from myself. even now, i see His hand in everything. perfectly orchestrated, a path tailor-made with my best interests in mind. a path only i can walk, mistakes and all. how can i not trust Your hands that have carried me this faithfully and this far?

   when i think about how my life is now, i am only reminded of how good You are. we can word it fancifully, but the plain and sufficient truth is that we are loved. so much more than we know.

   all the other truths i know point to it, and from it.

[lyciaho]

i see you now, and by your light i see everything else